Mischief Managed
by Vashka
Summary: Crazy things happen sometimes. Like utter Bedlam. Like learning how to fly a broom without dying. Like sudden verbal diarrhea. Like taking a chance. Like love. WINNER of Best Comedy at the Dramione Awards!
1. In Which There Are Problems

**Title:** Mischief Managed

**Author:** Vashka

**Rating:** PG for some sexual innuendo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this story, all Harry Potter copyrights belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, there is a line shamelessly stolen from _The Princess Bride_, copyright William Goldman. Can you find it?

**Warnings**: Uh, incredible silliness?

**Author Notes**: The HP Lexicon was invaluable in the plotting and writing of this fic, as it gave me many ideas for the potions used & abused in this story. Cheers to bambu for helping me brainstorm, and to Lorett and deemichelle for the fantastic beta work. Is a bit EWE, but you could say it is _selectively_ AU, rather than completely AU as I pick and choose parts of epilogue to use. Also, due to time constraints, it needs to be Brit-picked better than it actually is. Ah well. Enjoy!

**Summary:** Crazy things happen sometimes. Like utter Bedlam. Like learning how to fly a broom without dying. Like sudden verbal diarrhea. Like taking a chance. Like love.

**000**

**Chapter One: In Which There Are Problems**

**000**

**Eleven Years after The Great Battle of Hogwarts In Which The Boy-Who-Lived Became the Man-Who-Vanquished-Voldemort**

**Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy's Potion's Classroom, Seven PM:**

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

James Sirius Potter was bored.

He rhythmically kicked his sneaker-shod feet against the leg of the desk he was sitting behind. Having a babysitter besides Nana Weasley had sounded really, really fun at first, but all Miss Pansy and Mr. Draco did was _talk._

Bor-ing.

He was even in a new part of Hogwarts! He didn't get to go to the dungeons very much, because it was too dangerous. (Dangerous, it seemed to James, was a synonym for fun.) Here he was, in Mr. Draco's potions classroom, and he wasn't even allowed to touch _anything_. How unfair was that?

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

_Bored. Bored. Bored._

"Dear, here's a coloring book. Will you stop kicking? It gives Aunt Pansy a headache. And talking about Uncle Draco's cowardice already gave her nausea. " James looked at the coloring book excitedly and flipped to a picture of a heroic-looking wizard grinning and posing next to a dragon that moved sinuously on the page.

"Pansy, she doesn't even know I'm alive."

"Oh, she definitely knows you're _alive_. It's that she would prefer that you weren't."

James, like any good three-year old, lost interest when he discovered that the conversation wasn't about him. He turned to his charmed coloring book again, grabbed a purple crayon, and began to scribble furiously on the horrified-looking wizard's face.

"… just _try_ and be nicer…"

Sticking his tongue out, his little black brows furrowed in concentration, James finished his picture. The once noble-looking wizard was covered in purple, tan, and green and looked decidedly unpleased, and neither did the puce and orange colored dragon. The picture-wizard scowled and shook his finger silently at the young wizard, but James's limited attention span had already moved on.

He was bored again.

"Nice is a point of view. From my point of view, I am very nice..."

He slowly crept out of his seat, as stealthily as a three-year-old can manage. (Uncle George taught him how important that was while placing flobberworms on Nana Weasley's pillow.)

The potions classroom was large, dark, scary and utterly fascinating to the fearless three-year old. Bottle-green eyes wide and sucking on one chubby fist, James toddled around the room, peering into spider-infested cupboards and investigating the ancient remnants of left over potions from generations of Hogwarts students.

"… I'll bet she doesn't even know you're interested."

"How did you guess? Was it the hatred or the juvenile cracks?"

In one corner of the room, James found an adjoining door. Quietly, so as not to get into trouble, he slowly pushed open the door to reveal an empty room. And what a room! Filled form floor to ceiling with bottles of every shade of the rainbow (from red to violet, James remembered proudly) and of every size and shape James could fathom.

Working at a large table in the middle of the room, was James's cousin Teddy. He seemed to be diligently labeling and sorting things into groups on the table, muttering to himself as he worked.

"Albino git. I need to go to the loo. I can't hold it anymore. He'll just have to wait or do this himself."

With that, Teddy left the room before James could make himself known.

James let the conversation from the next room wash over him as he stared at the gleaming bottles.

"… You could just ask her out, you know."

"Yes, I can imagine how that would go. 'Would you like to go out with me?' would immediately be answered by hexing my balls off. I am quite fond of my reproductive organs, thank you very much."

"…"

"Don't look at me like that."

"You are an utter coward, Malfoy."

The masculine voice sighed, "I know."

000

**Seven PM, Still The Potions Classroom:**

"James! Where did you go?"

"Potter Brat! Where are you?"

James toddled in from the other room, and Pansy scooped him up. She peered into his bright green eyes and smiled wryly, her short dark hair softly brushing his chubby baby cheeks. "If I lose you, I'll be in much more trouble than you ever dreamed. I'll probably be hexed within an inch of my life, and you'll never be let out of your mummy's sight again."

As if summoned, Ginevra Potter neé Weasley strode through the door.

"Mummy!"

"… And luckily, I found you before disaster struck," Pansy muttered into James's baby-fine hair as she handed him to his eager mother.

Ginny kissed the little boy fondly, and took in his unconcerned, unscarred, un-traumatized appearance. "Well, it seems my baby had a good time today. Thank you so much for looking after him, Pansy. I've been swamped at the infirmary today with that Divination accident."

"Don't know how Loony manages to injure them in _Divination_," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Mum would have sat with him, but with her being in Romania, finding a sitter has been tight."

"It was my pleasure." Pansy smirked. "Just remember that favor you own me."

Ginny rolled her eyes slightly. "Why do I think that it won't be for a plate of cookies like a normal person?"

Draco lifted one haughty brow and said, "What's the fun in that? Predictability is highly overrated."

Draco's long form unfolded against his desk, black robes billowing around his body dramatically as he rose from his chair to greet Madame Potter. James's eyes widened in fascination as he took in Mr. Draco's height.

Ginny's hazel eyes twinkled as she asked, bluntly, "So, any progress with Mission Romance?"

Draco groaned and glared at Pansy. "Sweet Merlin, does absolutely everyone know about my pathetic love life?"

Pansy's lips curled sweetly. "I'm sure _she_ hasn't figured it out yet. But, yes, well, that's about it. Perhaps Filch hasn't heard yet, but that's only because he's too smelly to gossip with. Too many sardines, you know."

Draco growled, his silver eyes snapping dangerously as he glowered at her. (At least, that's what his mirror told him when he practiced.)

Ginny and Pansy burst into laughter.

Draco spun from them in disgust and marched to the narrow door that was connected to the storeroom.

"Lupin!" Draco barked, "Are you finished organizing those potions for Madame Potter yet?"

Teddy came out, struggling with a large box. He set it down heavily on one of the desks. "Here it is, sir."

"Good," Draco said coldly, "And what did we learn from this experience?"

Teddy rubbed his sweaty palms on his robes hastily, replying, "Um, not to use unauthorized magic in the corridors?"

"Do try to say that with more conviction. I might believe you."

Teddy gulped, "I will not use magic in the corridors to cause mischief, sir!"

"Fine," Draco sniffed haughtily. "Get out of here before I decide I don't like your face and take away more House points."

Teddy's face went red, and he looked like he was choking for a few moments, but soon he spun and quickly walked out of the room.

Ginny shook her head slowly. "Been reading Snape's handbook, _Teaching for Gits_? Because that was quite the impression you just did there."

Draco smirked slightly. "I get results. Which is more than your dear brother can say."

Ginny put down her squirming son and levitated the heavy box with a quick charm. "He teaches Games and Flight, Malfoy. And does a fine job of it, too."

"And whose Quidditch team mauled his last year?"

"Harry's."

"And mine!"

"Oh, that's right," Ginny called out as she sailed out through the door, "You did beat Ron. Right before Harry beat you."

Pansy's loud laugh covered any disgruntled comments. (Which was probably for the best, as they were not fit for the sensitive ears of children.)

As she followed James's brisk toddler jog, she noticed Luna lurking about the corridor poking around the molding tapestries. _Odd_, Ginny thought, _What is Luna doing so far away from the Divination Tower at this time of night? _

Ginny made a move to talk to her, but noticed a small figure vanish around the bend that led deeper into the dungeon.

"James Potter! You get back here!"

A high baby-giggle echoed down the dark corridor.

"I think that boy has been taking trouble lessons from his Uncle George," Luna said reflectively.

"You think?" Ginny said sarcastically. "Luna, could you take this box up to the Infirmary? I need to catch a little brat."

With that, she hitched up her robes and sped down the hall after her errant son, leaving a wide-eyed Luna behind, staring speculatively at the heavy box.

000

**Seven Forty-Five PM, Third Floor Corridor:**

Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Triumphed, and general overall Good Guy was at this moment the Man-With-An-Enormous-Head-Cold.

Barely finishing his lessons for the day, he just managed not biting the heads off of a shrieking group of Hufflepuff girls in his last class. _Ugh, _Harry thought peevishly, _Whoever actually wants fangirls is seriously misguided._

_Maybe teaching isn't right for me, _Harry thought irritably,_ At least as an Auror I wouldn't have to work with hormonal teenagers. But I would miss Hogwarts…_

These thoughts occupied Harry's mind as he slowly made his way to his wife's office. He was supremely content with his life (overly-estrogenized teenagers aside), he had a family he loved, a happy home, a great job… what more could he want?

After the battle at Hogwarts, he had some groveling to do with Ginny. He had ignored her horridly that year and needed to show her that she still held a special place in his heart.

He wooed her and courted her properly and (with a little bit of help from Hermione) he finally won her over, and (Okay, with a lot of help from Hermione) married her after Ginny graduated from Hogwarts.

Naturally, as the savior of the wizarding world, he had been offered a horde of jobs. (The sheer gall of the competing office owls attacking Grimmauld Place at all hours of the day was the subject of ribbing for weeks.) But, of course, his mind had been made up long before they started attacking his residence.

He was going back to Hogwarts.

It was the only home he had ever really known. The only place he had ever really been happy.

The Hogwarts faculty, after the traumatic events of the last few years, were more than willing to take on the Miracle Man as a permanent staff member. After all, a battle was fought at the doorstep of the esteemed institution and even Minerva McGonagall, the new headmistress, could see the need for a little positive press.

He worked hard, and eventuallydeveloped his own mix of teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts, which was quite popular with students. Noting his enormous success, McGonagall started to actively recruit young, energetic teachers. The older standbys were all more than ready for a well-deserved retirement anyway. (Slughorn, it was said, practically ran as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him.)

Hermione and Ron, of course, were the first to be contacted. Hermione agreed to teach Transfiguration as long as she was allowed to do research on the side. Ron signed up as soon as he heard he would be able to play games all day. Neville and Luna joined the staff soon afterward.

The most surprising additions were the two Slytherins, Draco and Pansy. No one was quite sure as to why they had taken the positions in the school, as they both supposedly had money shooting out their arses, but they mysteriously appeared one day prepared to teach and still seemed quite content about it.

The first year was a tense affair, played down for the student's sake, of course, but the tension at the staff meetings was so high one could have lit a match and the room would have surely combusted. Eventually, though, a camaraderie of sorts was established between the men through the one thing that had previously been the source of years worth of heated rivalry, _Quidditch_.

It had been decided that each Quidditch team would have a staff coach to augment the skills of the team captain. Harry, Draco, Ron and Ginny were obvious choices.

And, strangely, the better Draco's Slytherins did, the less Harry and Ron seemed to detest him.

It could have been that Draco had stopped composing songs demeaning Ron's masculinity.

It could have been maturity.

Or, it could have been the post-match congratulatory drinking at the pub.

Whichever.

Hermione, not to be outdone by this new, friendlier animosity, extended a cordial hand to Pansy, and was surprised that her overtures were pleasantly received. And was even further shocked that she actually _liked_ Pansy. (Most of the time. Excepting when she decided that Hermione would look _fabulous_ with her hair dyed blonde and cut short. Hermione considered giving her back after that.)

After Ginny graduated, she and Harry married. She then decided to take on an apprenticeship with Madame Pomfrey. (_"Students always have the most interesting cases of accidental magic to correct." "Because they don't know what the hell they're doing?" "Exactly."_)

Over the next few years, Harry and Ginny had settled into a routine, and they were very happy, especially when little James was added to their lives. _("He looks like a purple goblin." "Shut up, Ron."_)

Harry reached the hospital wing and stopped short in the doorway of the infirmary, ignoring his pounding head momentarily and, leaned on the doorframe watching his wife work. Her red hair gleamed and her smile flashed brightly as she ran from patient to patient doing last call, Harry felt a swell of love as he gazed upon her proficiency and gentleness with her patients.

James, who was always underfoot, noticed his father first, and ran up to Harry excitedly. Harry ruffled his hair affectionately as he smiled at his wife. "How are my beautiful wife and the great Black-Haired Terror of Hogwarts?"

James giggled and said loudly, "That's not my name, daddy."

"That's not what I heard from Professor Malfoy today," Harry joked, smiling, headache almost forgotten.

"What did he say?" Ginny asked. "I just have a little paperwork to do before I can leave for the day."

"He said, and I quote, 'That spawn of yours is not fit to be let out in public. It's a menace.'"

"Ah, Malfoy. Always so caring, so tactful." Ginny rolled her eyes and signed a few more papers. Rearranging the folders on her desk neatly, she picked up her cloak from the hook. "I'll meet you at home in a trice. I just have one more patient to see to tonight."

"Oh, that's all right," Harry said, absentmindedly as he tickled a squirming James, "I've a bit of a headache. Do you have something for it?"

Ginny smiled, "Your Slytherin fan club again?"

"Worse." Harry shuddered. "The Hufflepuff girls."

Ginny giggled and rummaged around in the new stores from Draco that Luna had delivered earlier. She eventually located the right potion, and handed it to Harry. He flipped the stopper off with his right thumb and knocked it back in one gulp.

"Thanks, love, I feel better already. You're the most shaggable Mediwich there is. Any chance we could play Naughty, Sexy Mediwitch and Strapping, Innocent Patient tonight?"

Ginny blinked and flushed in surprise at her husband's words. (The Boy-Who-Lived-Only-To-Die-And-Then-Inexplicably-Live-Again was not usually so forward.)

Harry only smiled calmly at his wife, then turned to his little son who was currently climbing up his trousers. Scooping James into his arms and twirling him about, he cried, "There's my little hellion! You aren't going to walk in to our bedroom again tonight and interrupt our fun, are you?" Harry winked at Ginny, gave her a quick peck on the cheek and sauntered off.

Ginny watched him leave, head cocked quizzically, as he walked out the door, their squealing son tucked under his arm and shook her head indulgently.

000

**Eight PM, The Infirmary:**

"… This is all your fault!" Hermione Granger, Professor of Transfiguration, Heroine of the Wizarding World, Best Friend of Harry Potter, was currently seething. And, oddly enough, very… blue.

"Oh?" Draco cocked his head slightly, causing robin's egg blue hair to fall into his eyes. "Is that so?" He irritably flicked his hair out of his eyes and scowled at Hermione, folding his arms across his chest. "Let's work this out, like rational adults, shall we?" When Hermione only glowered in return, he lifted one elegant, long fingered hand. Eyes boring into hers, he ticked off the list of his offenses. "Somehow, I managed to convince that piss-poor Hufflepuff student to be rushing about the first floor corridor with his remedial potion."

A second finger joined the first. "And- amazingly I might add- I also seemed to make you appear in the same first floor corridor."

He smirked as he ticked off the third finger. "Then, I deviously managed to distract you with a few brilliantly timed questions about the staff meeting."

Draco could hear Hermione's teeth grinding, but miraculously she was still silent.

"Meanwhile, I caused the clumsy oaf to trip on his own two feet." He paused for a moment and arched an eyebrow at Hermione. "It would appear I am _very_ gifted."

He stopped short and raised a hand to quickly quell Hermione's comment as she opened her mouth to protest. "Ah, Granger, I'm not finished yet. You'll enjoy this much more if you lay back and let me work. Let's see, where was I?" Enjoying her obvious wrath, he ticked off his last finger. "Ah, yes. Let's not forget how I also somehow managed to get us to be perfectly in range for a full dose of the spray of the evidence of his ineptitude. And, this really is the kicker, I ensorcelled him into _making the wrong potion_."

Draco paused, rubbing his full, teal lips with a navy finger, "Yes, I am truly an evil mastermind."

Hermione narrowed her cornflower blue eyes, "No, just a bloody idiot."

"I think you're actually upset that this dreadful potion is ruining my fabulous good looks."

"Yes. I think Smurfs are incredibly attractive. I want to throw myself at your pasty blue self and lick you as if you were a hot muffin topped with fresh like blueberry frosting."

"Snarfs? What the bleeding hell are Snarfs?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"That frosting part sounded appropriate. You may proceed."

Hermione huffed in exasperation, "You are incorrigible! Don't you think of anything besides your pecker?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Ginny stood back and watched them squabble for a moment, wishing she had a camera to capture their rather amazing appearance. Her inner devil (well-trained as a youngster by Fred and George) lamented the loss of blackmail material momentarily but she shrugged it aside.

Instead, she noted how very close Draco was standing to Hermione, so close that their bodies were almost touching. He continued to tease her mercilessly, at one point reaching very close to her to tug on a springy sapphire curl. Any otherwitch would have caught his not-so-subtle flirting.

Strangely, Hermione didn't seem to notice, and kept ranting about something or other, gesturing wildly, poking Draco's rather wide chest a few times for emphasis.

Ginny smirked.

_That sexual tension will spontaneously combust someday. I hope I'm there to see it._

Ginny saw Draco hesitate for a moment, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Uh, Granger, do you…?"

Ginny chose that moment to make her presence known. "Well, don't you both look smashing? There seems to be something different, though. Did you get new robes?"

At Draco's glare, Ginny smiled sweetly and raised her eyebrows pointedly.

_Not here, you moron!_

Draco had a highly developed sense of cowardice, and more than his share of astuteness. (Unlike Ron, who never really developed that certain knack to understanding unspoken messages. An incident involving Molly Weasley, an unfortunate mauve gown, and Ron being bald for a week came to mind) Hence, he recieved the unspoken message, and closed his mouth sharply.

Ginny rolled her eyes. _Men really do have an underdeveloped sense of Romance. Must be all that sweat. _

Hermione quickly explained their predicament, while Ginny ran a few diagnostic spells.

"… and it was all Draco's fault."

Draco snorted, "You need a new line, Granger." He leaned close to her and fluttered his cobalt eyelashes and his voice dropped low. " Something along the lines of, 'Draco, darling. I just loooove your gorgeous, manly body. I just want to take you back to my room so we can shag each other rotten for a week straight,' Would be lovely."

Hermione flushed brightly, and her lips twitched.

"Ha! You want to!"

Vehement denials.

During this process, Ginny de-colorized them fairly easily, wondering if they realized how obvious their attraction was for each other. She knew that Draco wanted Hermione, but she wondered if Hermione had any clue whatsoever how much she wanted Draco? Humming to herself, she rummaged through her potions and gave Draco and Hermione each a vial.

"Now, that spell I did will energize you for about twelve hours, so I gave each of you a vial of Dreamless Sleep to take before bedtime."

"Finally. I can look in the mirror without shuddering. Aren't you glad my electrifying good looks are back, Granger?"

Hermione snorted, "I'm certain _you_ are." She held his grey gaze for a charged moment, then spun on her heel, departing without a further word to Draco and only a terse 'thank you' to Ginny.

Her back was turned, as she strode out of the room without a backward glance, and therefore missed the wistful expression playing in Draco's soft grey eyes.

000

**Breakfast, The Great Hall:**

Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Hero Extraordinaire, Order of Merlin (First Class!), and Honorary member of the Wizengamot, would never attain the title of Morning Person.

For as long as anyone could remember, Harry had adhered to the same morning routine. (Exempting attempts on his life, of course.) Blearily wake up. Grope for glasses. Shower. Dress haphazardly. Stumble to breakfast. Drink coffee. Lots of coffee.

… And the occasional morning shag, which made Morning-Harry _much_ more bearable.

Hence, when something was wrong, it was immediately obvious.

Draco leaned back in his chair at the head table, and miraculously balanced on its two back legs. "Granger," he stage-whispered.

Hermione, sitting next to him, studiously studied the Prophet.

"Granger."

Hermione took a sip of her coffee.

"Graaaaanger."

Hermione's knuckles went white, gripping her mug like it was the slender white throat of the annoying man sitting next to her.

Draco watched her, enjoying her reactions immensely. As she tightened her grip on her coffee mug, he thought, _I'm glad my neck isn't that handle. But if her grip was on other parts of my anatomy… well._ _That would be much more interesting._

Shifting his wandering thoughts with regret, he drawled, "Grananananger."

"What!" Hermione hissed, her annoyed gaze slicing into the amused blond.

"Someone testy this morning? Too hot and bothered to sleep last night?" Draco smirked, and his voice lowered to a sexy purr. "Perhaps you should come my way tonight. I have some fantastic remedies for insomnia."

Hermione flushed prettily. "My sleeping habits are none of your concern. I'm sure that's not what you were bothering me about so persistently."

Draco's eyes gleamed wickedly. "Why are you having problems sleeping, Granger? I know the remedy, of course." Hermione groaned. "You just need to dream of me and all your troubles will melt away."

Hermione's flush deepened. "I don't have any problems! None that is, except for you."

Draco ignored her completely and a slow, utterly masculine grin turned up one corner of his lips as he leaned closer and whispered, "Tell me, Granger - do you dream about me?" Hermione folded her paper and smacked it down smartly on the table turning fully to face Draco and fixed him with the vilest glare she could muster. His eyes ran over her face, searching for what she had no idea, before he sighed dramatically. "Never mind, we'll talk about that fascinating topic when there is less of an audience."

Hermione snorted. "Can't wait. Is there anything else?"

"Correct as usual, Granger," Draco paused and looked at the other end of the staff table. "Do you notice something… off… about Scarhead this morning?"

Hermione sighed and quickly glanced at the other end of the table. She then looked back down at the article about the high concentration of Giggly Mold Spores in Wales, and read a few more lines, when her brain finally processed what she had seen.

Her head snapped up so fast, her massive mane whipped into Draco's face.

"Hey! Get that nasty stuff away from me." Draco said spitefully. He gently pulled her soft curls away form his face and caught a whiff of lily of the valley, starting a visceral ache in the pit of his belly. _Who knew her hair would turn me on? _Draco frowned, _I really must be desperate._

Hermione grunted and swept it out of the way, ignoring Draco's comments about registering her hair with the Department of Magical Disasters, as she stared at Harry.

He was… perky.

"So, last night I thought that perhaps we should take a holiday." Harry chirped happily. "Not just any holiday, mind you, but somewhere nice, like Southern France. They have topless beaches there. Or maybe Thailand. I always did fancy Asian birds…"

And loquacious.

How odd.

Ginny stopped trying to control James's enthusiastic spat with his porridge, and Pansy had stopped eating as they stared at the rambling hero in disbelief. Ron was also staring, but, of course, had not stopped eating his breakfast. (Once, when he had the stomach flu, Ron had given up his second after-tea snack. All agreed that the world momentarily stopped spinning on its axis.)

Ginny felt his forehead, staring at his scar speculatively. "Not hot. Probably not possession, thank goodness."

"What are you feeling my forehead for, Gin? My headache is completely gone. It didn't go away until later last night, actually. Are you sure that potion works correctly?" He leant in towards her, tempting her with a wink. "But it did go away, right after we put James to bed and then I convinced you to put on that cute little French Maid outfit I bought from _Sexy Witch_. My head really wasn't bothering me about the time when you took your feather duster and…"

Ginny flushed a deep scarlet, clapped her had over her husband's mouth, hissing, "Harry!"

Ron, who had been shoving sausages into his mouth, grimaced around his food. "Thart's 'oody dish-ushting. 'Course nothin' is ash awful ash You-Know-Who comin' back."

Pansy's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I beg to differ. Your table manners, I think, would rival the horror of the Dark Lord's return."

Ron swallowed and rolled his eyes. (But blushed profusely, although he would have denied under pain of Certain Death.)

"It's like he has no filter," Hermione mumbled as she sipped her coffee slowly, trying to puzzle out what was wrong with Harry.

"Hm, very true. Although that's not unusual with Scarhead, nevertheless, he is behaving in a much more Weasel-esque manner. The crudity, the poor taste, the overwhelming idiocy- all classic Weasel."

Hermione delicately covered her lips with her napkin, but her eyes were twinkling merrily.

"Oh! The Post!" Harry cried, still oblivious to the attention he was receiving. "Maybe my new issue of _Playwizard _is finally here. Celestina Warbeck is the centerfold, and she's got a bloody gorgeous…"

"…Set of booboos, Daddy!" James finished proudly.

Ginny suddenly stood up, jerking her husband's arm fiercely, causing him to spill pumpkin juice all over Pansy. (Who cried out in alarm and sent a Slytherin Death GlareTM his way.)

"We are leaving!"

"But darling, I haven't finished my…"

"_Now._"

She tugged the arms of her two males as they lamented their lost breakfast.

Hermione shook her head slowly, intrigued. She opened her post absently as her logical brain whirred and buzzed, happily trying to solve the puzzle of Harry.

She glanced down at her letter, and Harry was instantly forgotten.

"_YES!_" Two voices screeched over the usual breakfast clamor, causing a sudden silence in the Great Hall.

Draco and Hermione stood- post clutched in their hands, arms akimbo, chairs hastily knocked to the ground- and stared at each other dumbly.

Hermione recovered first, "Well. Your news can't be nearly as fantastic as my news."

"Ha! My news makes yours look like the Weasel in dress robes."

"Anyhow, my book is going to be published."

"My trust fund has been restored."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Well. I never knew it was gone, but that makes a certain sort of sense. That is good news. I am happy for you, Malfoy."

Draco scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. "I suppose your news isn't half-bad either. Congratulations. I know how hard you worked on your manuscript."

They smiled at each other and chatted amiably, enjoying their shared good fortune, until a niggling feeling of disquiet settled in Hermione's breast.

_This is Malfoy_, she reminded herself softly, _He hates you and everything you believe in. This has to be some sort of trick._

She hardened her heart with regret, turned away from him, and took a small sip of her coffee.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Hermione knew that she and Draco couldn't have a civil conversation. It was unnatural, immoral, inhumane, and generally against the Order Of Things.

… Wasn't it?

000

**Morning, The Infirmary: **

It was a normal morning for Ginny. After dropping off a very excitable James at the Burrow in the care of her poor father, she dropped into the infirmary to start work. (After scolding Harry soundly for his behavior this morning. With threats that if he ever spilled information like that again, those things he liked for her to wear would disappear. Forever.)

The morning was filled with the usual accidents, fevers, aches, pains and sores. Ron, for example, had a minor sprain teaching the Slytherins the finer points of Wollyball, and Neville happened to have been cut by his shears at approximately the same time.

Ron knocked back his pain-killing potion, and squinted at Neville, who was balancing his blood-replenishing potion clumsily in his bandaged hand.

Ron walked up to Neville put his arm around his shoulders casually as he steered towards the exit, "Hey, mate, do you have a new cologne? It smells fantastic…"

Ginny was tending to a third year with a sinus infection when Professor McGonagall stormed in, rubbing her temples furiously.

Ginny gave the boy a potion, and turned to the headmistress "Talk to the ministry again?"

"That Umbridge woman… I have no idea why she hasn't been sacked yet. No one with that level of incompetence should be on the payroll. Anywhere."

"What was it about this time?" Ginny asked as she rummaged about the box of potions for her headache cure-all.

McGonagall took the bottle, relieved and rolled her eyes. "This time it was about Hogwarts 'hogging' all of the heroes. The gall of that woman- accusing me of keeping you all here under lock and key!"

Just before lunch, Pansy stopped by for a refill of her contraceptive potion ("Not that I have had any reason to be on this lately," she said gloomily) followed closely by an immaculately groomed Hermione.

Hermione waved at Pansy's retreating figure distantly, muttering to herself. Rounding upon Ginny, she said testily, "Look at my hair."

Ginny blinked.

"Uh, it looks good?"

"Exactly! I've been trying to get it to look like this for_ years_. Years! I've found a book in the library that I've needed for weeks, my book is being published, and I look better than I have in years with absolutely no effort."

Hermione sat on a low cot and stared out the window, serious brows furrowed in concentration. "If I didn't know better, I would say it was the luckiest day of my life, except I keep running into the Ferret. That certainly doesn't fit the pattern."

"I don't know, he is rather handsome... Isn't it good fortune to keep running into such a good-looking bloke?"

Hermione blushed a little and averted her eyes. "Certainly. But he knows that all too well. And that doesn't cancel out his overall nasty character."

"True," Ginny said. She was silent for a moment, and then continued, hesitantly, "But he's been so different lately."

Hermione shrugged uncomfortably and hunched into herself, looking small and lonely. "Perhaps, but I don't want to let my guard down when it comes to him."

Ginny walked over and sat next to her on the cot, putting her arms around Hermione's small frame. "It's not like you not to give someone a chance. You're the most generous person I know. You forgave _Pansy_ of all people, why are you being so hard on Malfoy?"

Hermione shrugged helplessly. "He's… well, he's always had the power to hurt me. Even when we were very small. If I let him into my life, can you imagine the damage he'd do?"

Ginny smiled cheekily. "Come now, Hermione. That doesn't sound like the Gryffindor I know. Where's your courage? Your friends and family all love you. You have a fantastic job that you adore, and you're the Heroine of the Wizarding World. Why don't you give him a chance? Really, what's the worst that could happen?"

000

**Lunchtime, The Great Hall, Hogwarts:**

Hermione and Ginny slowly walked down to the Great Hall, chatting about this, that and nothing. Ginny was puzzling out Hermione's hair, while Hermione asked about Harry's incident at breakfast, and they shared some nonchalant gossip about Luna and Neville's budding relationship. They reached the Great Hall, the door opened and they strode forward, empty bellies eagerly leading them to lunch.

And stopped dead in their tracks.

The Great Hall was in incredible, utterly bizarre chaos.

Students, instead of sitting, chatting, and eating were running in every direction. A third-year girl walked by in a daze, tripping over a small redhead who was rolling on the floor, giggling madly. A cluster of seventh years were standing on the Gryffindor table singing raucously with puzzled expressions on their faces. Two beautiful seventh year girls were dueling fiercely over a bemused (but extremely pleased), skinny, hopeless, Ravenclaw anorak.

The normal students were hiding- underneath the tables, behind staff members, hugging the walls- staring goggle-eyed at their friends, who, to all appearances, had gone dead insane.

Hermione quirked a brow at Ginny, "You were saying?"

Ginny snapped her jaw shut. "This is unbelievable. Absolutely incredible. Has everyone gone nutters?"

"Quite."

With that, they ran to help the poor, befuddled staff members try to bang out some order.

About ten minutes later, Draco sailed through the chaos, miraculously unharmed, eyes wide as he took in the carnage happening around him. Projectiles would sail gracefully over his blond head. Students jostled around him, but never ran into him. A sixth year girl, who seemed to think she was some sort of carnivorous animal, made to attack him, but changed prey at the last moment to attack the hapless third year standing behind him.

Hermione watch this display thoughtfully from the amid the mess of students and staff, her head slightly cocked, one hand toying with a springy curl. Nodding decisively,

Hermione marched through the students, almost tripping on a few poor children whose hair was growing at a ridiculously fast rate, making a slippery pool around their bodies. Taking Draco's arm, she steered his unresisting tall form towards the staff table.

"Draco, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"We need to talk about the incredible good luck we've had today."

Draco stared at her for a moment, deliberately turned his head and stared at two boys levitating six feet off the ground, who were cheerfully pelting everyone with remnants of lunch, and turned back.

He raised a pointed brow and cleared his throat. "Don't you think we have more important matters to attend to?"

Hermione flushed slightly. "Of course, but it may have something to do with this mess."

"Right. Out with it then, before something happens to ruin my good hair day."

"That's just it, Malfoy. I don't think anything will. Not today, at least. I think we've been dosed with Felix Felicitas."

Draco's brows furrowed. "Felix Felicitas?

Hermione quirked her lips. "It's the only way to explain the statistically high percentage of fortunate events happening to the two of us."

Draco smiled, leaned close to Hermione and purred, "I love it when you talk dirty."

Hermione suppressed the shiver that walked down her spine and returned to trying to control an unfortunate student in love with Hagrid.

On the other side of the Great Hall, Ginny and Harry were having an equally difficult time trying to figure out what was wrong with Pansy.

She was breathing hard, flushed, and her clothing sat dangerously askew as her eyes glittered dangerously, in search of new prey.

She settled on Ron.

"Oohh… Ronald Weasley." Pansy sauntered up to him, fevered eyes appraising his tall form hotly, winding one sender arm around his back. "I always did like my men tall, handsome and not too bright."

Ron swallowed reflexively, his skin turning a deep shade of crimson that looked horrendous next to his auburn hair. He tried to gently set her away from him, but she had turned into a human octopus, limbs grasping and clutching, hips pressing and churning, leaving Ron in quite… a state.

"Harry, mate, save me!"

Harry (who was goggling at this display, mouth open) replied, "Save you from what?"

Ron goggled at him, still trying to escape the purring mass of Slytherin female attached to him without touching… sensitive… areas.

Ginny rolled her eyes, pulled out her wand, and tore Pansy off effortlessly. "Are you a wizard, or aren't you?"

Ron blushed, and mumbled something about being put on the spot and not being trained to handle such situations.

Pansy, it seemed was not put off by Ron's rejection, and had moved on to easier (or at least more willing) prey.

Filch.

Ginny's brows furrowed as she restrained Pansy from sitting on a shocked Filch's lap. "You'll thank me later, Pansy. Even you can't be that desperate. What's gotten into you?"

Pansy ran a trembling hand through her short hair, giving her a wild appearance. "I don't know Ginny, I just can't seem to control myself. I'm just so… so… _hot_."

Ginny sighed and shook her head. _This is crazy. What is going on here? Pansy was acting normally this morning! And so was Helena… and Geoffrey…_

Ginny's eyes narrowed suddenly. _Wait. What if…_

Unfortunately, this thought was not completed, as there was a new development.

Luna came floating down the stairs, bangles jingling, looking mildly worried. (Which meant an event approximately the size of the apocalypse had occurred.) "Professor McGonagall seems to be dead."

"WHAT?!?"

The staff (and the few unaffected students) heard this impossible pronouncement and gathered around the usually inscrutable woman at the head table.

"Well, she seemed to be anyway. At first."

Hermione took a shaky breath, and gritted out, "You mean she's not really dead?"

"She's only mostly dead. I checked. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead."

Ron blinked hard. "Should we be worried?"

"I did a diagnostic spell, and she probably had a large dose of the Draught of Living Death, or was hit by a strange stunning spell."

_Draught of Living Death? _Ginny thought, puzzled._ Why would the Headmistress take the Draught of Living Death? Unless it was an accident… Unless…_

Ginny's head snapped up and she looked at the chaos before her with new eyes.

_Shit. Well. There goes my afternoon off._

"Oh," Luna said absently, "I ran into Neville on the way, and he as the most lovely new look."

That caught everyone's attention.

Harry broke the sudden silence. "What do you mean Luna?"

"He's too modest to show you, so I'll get him." Luna skipped down the length of the great hall, her pink and fluorescent-green robes swirling around her body gaily. She stopped at the entrance and spoke quietly, her expressive hands beckoning to the man just out if sight.

"No!" came Neville's disembodied voice from the hallway. "I'll be in the infirmary. They can meet me there."

"But they will be so disappointed when they miss your new look."

"They won't. Trust me."

Luna's delicate brows furrowed, and she grabbed Neville's hand forcefully, pulling him into the Hall.

There was a moment of complete silence in the Great Hall. (Which had not happened since the time of Orlan the Odd, when he came to breakfast starkers and wondered when the Great Hall had become so shamefully drafty.)

The students shrieked.

Draco cackled.

It was a brown, fuzzy, man-sized, trouser-wearing, eye-popping…

Bunny.

"It's me, Professor Longbottom! Please calm yourselves," the rabbit-man-creature squeaked, causing the students to laugh/shriek.

Neville sighed, whiskers trembling. He quickly walked to the Head table and stood helplessly in front of Ginny.

"I took my blood-replenishing potion, and suddenly I turned into this… this creature!"

"Wow, Nev. You look really stunning in fur."

Stare

"Wot?" Ron said around a bit of his sandwich, "Neville, mate, come sit next to me."

Neville tentatively sat in the open seat next to Ron, his long, floppy ears twitching nervously.

Hermione bit her lip hard and looked like she was trying to suppress a fit of giggles.

Draco and Pansy were not nearly so tactful; they were laughing hysterically.

"This," Draco huffed in between chortles, "this... is the… best day… of my life."

"Dear Merlin," Pansy moaned, tears streaming down her face, as she clutched the shoulder of a very disapproving Ron. "It _hurts_… The blackmail! Think of the blackmail!"

Draco laughed even harder.

"Neville," Hermione said, after taking a moment to get herself under control, "do you have any idea what sort of potion could have done this to you?"

Neville slouched in his chair miserably and shook his head.

Never one to turn down a puzzle, Hermione squinted at him hard (which made Neville nervous) as the wheels of her quick mind turned. Her eyes suddenly widened (which made Neville _really_ nervous), and exclaimed, "Oh no! You likely imbibed a dose of Polyjuice that was mixed with an animal hair. It should wear off- it lasts a bit longer than normal Polyjuice, but you should be back to normal by evening."

Harry lit up. "Like you in second year, when you turned into a…"

Hermione clapped her hand over Harry's mouth, and smiled tightly. "… A Slytherin. Yes. I used Polyjuice to turn into a Slytherin girl second year."

Harry's brows drew together in confusion. "No, Hermione, that's not right. Second year you turned into a…"

"_Silencio!_"

Everyone stared at Hermione in confusion. (Except for Ron, who was turning purple. However, he wasn't going to risk Hermione's wrath for the momentary pleasure of enlightening everyone. He had dated her once, thank you very much.)

"Erhm," Hermione said awkwardly. "I think Harry had a bit of Veritaserum."

"You think?"

Ginny squinted at him, and remembered, "He did have an anti-headache potion yesterday, but if it was Veritasterum, the effects should have worn… off…" Ginny gasped, covering her mouth with one hand, eyes wide.

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "How much did he have?"

Ginny gulped, "The whole bottle."

"What's the usual dose?" Pansy murmured to Draco, shifting in her chair restlessly, her dark eyes hungrily lingering on two well-built Seventh Years. (Who were currently shirtless and bench pressing the Hufflepuff table. By themselves.)

"Three drops."

"Oh. Rotten luck there. Wouldn't like to have my internal monologue exposed like that."

"Quite."

Luna looked thoughtfully at a group of Ravenclaws that were joyfully dancing on the tables, creating bursts of flower petals and streamers from their wands. (This was not pleasing to the other students, as Rose Petals do not go particularly well with treacle.) She mused, "I suppose there are no antidotes on hand for any of these maladies."

Draco looked at the chaos serenely. "Not on hand for most. Some can be brewed quickly, but others… they may take awhile." He smirked slightly. "But with my luck, I could probably brew them in a few hours."

_Great_, Pansy thought, _With one application of Felix __Felicitas__, his ego somehow managed to leap from huge to gigantic. That'll really help his chances with…_

"Humility, Malfoy, is not one of your redeeming virtues." Hermione said acidly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Humor, Granger, is not one of yours."

_SLAP_

Pansy winced at the carnage. (But was strangely turned on by it) Draco looked stunned; his grey eyes wide, as one manicured hand rose and cupped his tender, pink cheek. _No, he's definitely not going to get anywhere. He needs more than luck. He needs a bloody miracle. _

"Luckiest day of my life, my arse!" Hermione cried fiercely as she stormed out of the Great Hall.

Ginny looked around at the madness she helped create, and sighed heavily, raising her wand and jumping into the fray. _This_, she thought dully, _Is going to be a long, long day._

000

**Recipent:** Emm718

**REQUEST**

**Would you prefer an art or fic gift?** A fic.

**Describe your ideal gift in as few words as possible (plus rating): **Comedy, a bit of Drama, perhaps a who-done-it??? Oh yes. A wildly imaginative creation. Purdy please.

**Dealbreakers (absolute no-no's):** No character death. Must be nice to Ron and Pansy. Not too much angst. Oh and please, if in the case that you decide it is imperative that Draco and Hermione bump uglies, I don't want non-con, s&m, etc. Lets keep it respectful.


	2. In Which There Is Much Investigating

**Title:** Mischief Managed

**Rating:** PG for some sexual innuendo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this story, all Harry Potter copyrights belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, there is a line shamelessly stolen from _The Princess Bride_, copyright William Goldman. Can you find it?

**Warnings**: Uh, incredible silliness?

**Author Notes**: The HP Lexicon was invaluable in the plotting and writing of this fic, as it gave me many ideas for the potions used & abused in this story. Cheers to bamboo for helping me brainstorm, and to Lorett and deemichelle for the fantastic beta work. Is a bit EWE, but you could say it is _selectively_ AU, rather than completely AU. Also, due to time constraints, it needs to be Brit-picked better than it actually is. Ah well. Enjoy!

**Summary:** Crazy things happen sometimes. Like utter Bedlam. Like learning how to fly a broom without dying. Like sudden verbal diarrhea. Like taking a chance. Like love.

000

**Chapter Two: In Which There Is Much Investigating**

000

**Early Afternoon, The Dungeons:**

"The students have escaped their common rooms again!"

Most of the staff was gathered in a small, dank room in dungeons temporarily deemed "Crisis HQ." (The usual staff room was under a curse that caused it to downpour ceaselessly. Luna had been trying to clean up that particular mess since lunchtime.)

Hermione rubbed her temples in agitation. "Thank you Mr. Filch." She turned weary eyes onto the other staff members in the tiny, uncomfortable room. "Whose turn is it to round up the escaped students?"

"Who died and made you headmistress? Oh, yes, McGonagall, apparently. But I'll have you know,I am the senior staff member here."

"Malfoy, you were hired two days before I was."

"And that makes me senior, doesn't it? Or above you, anyway."

Pansy smirked. "But would being below her really be so bad?"

Draco looked at her incredulously. "You really do need to get laid, Pans, you really do."

Neville was trying to look grim, and failing miserably. (Mostly because long, soft bunny ears trembling cutely does not a threatening picture make.)

"Right. We need a plan."

"Really? What a mind-boggling observation."

"Malfoy, is the sarcasm really necessary?"

"Necessary? Is breathing necessary? Is eating necessary? Is bathing necessary? Well, perhaps not for the Weasel…"

Ron groaned, "We get the point. Being a git is your basal state. How bloody marvelous for us. But really, what are we going to do about this situation?"

Hermione leaned forward eagerly. "We have a few priorities, we need to investigate and we need to brew antidotes. I think an investigative team made of myself, Harry, Ronald, and Neville should do, and Pansy, Luna and Draco will brew the antidotes that Ginny decides we need."

"Hold on a tic, Granger, that investigation business sounds infinitely more entertaining than brewing potions all day. And it seems you've assigned yourself to that team." Draco shot her a smug smile. "I fancy I know why."

Hermione smiled tightly. "And I suppose you're going to tell me, aren't you?"

"Of course," Draco leaned forward, his hot breath caressing Hermione's neck, "You fancy yourself a right avenging heroine to save the day. With your luck I'll bet you'd be bloody fantastic, per usual. Yet," He said, idly tracing a complex pattern with his fingers on her exposed skin, "I need your expertise in the dungeons, brewing potions with me. Can't you imagine how good we'd be together?"

"And," He stated briskly, sitting up quickly, leaving Hermione flushed and confused, "I don't want to brew potions with Horny and Looney all day. I feel amazing! It would be such a waste of my talents and bloody good fortune sitting on my arse in the dungeons, all day. With our luck combined, and not to mention a healthy dose of talent, we'd be done in a pinch, leaving the evening free for other… activities."

Hermione snapped out her sensual daze, eyes snapping fire. "It's my lucky day too, you great big prat, and you don't see me being selfish, do you?"

"On the contrary, my dear, you gave yourself the better assignment while neglecting the good of the community at large. Therefore you are more selfish."

Hermione sputtered incoherently.

Draco tugged one long chestnut spiral fondly. "Don't you worry luv, to a Slytherin your delectable selfishness just makes you more attractive."

Harry groaned and glared at the pair. "Will you stop squabbling? We have more important things to do to do than listen to your unresolved sexual tension. Just shag already so we can get to more important matters."

Two wands were trained on him before he could blink.

"Take it back!"

"My sex life is none of your business, Scarhead!"

Bottle-green eyes blinked innocently. "We all think so. The teacher's betting pool has odds on you shagging like rabbits before the month is out. Although Pansy here has you breaking down before the end of the week." His black brows furrowed in concentration. "Pans, did you have them shagging on the Quidditch Pitch or the Astronomy Tower for the bonus 100 galleons?"

Ron groaned. "Get out of here before you get us all killed!"

000

**Not Much Later, Hogwarts Grounds:**

Hermione marched on the crisp leaves on her way towards the Whomping Willow. She snuggled into her cloak as a particularly chilly breeze wormed its way across her skin.

_Crackle, crackle, crackle. _Hermione thought happily as she brought her foot down hard on a dry red leaf. _I love autumn. It would be such a lovely day, if not for other complications. Even so, it's at least been interesting. _

Hermione squinted into the bright sunlight, and took a large breath of cool air, enjoying the feel of it as it shot to her lungs. She grinned widely as she thought about Bunny-Neville, Horny-Pansy, and Flobber-Tongued Harry.

Her face stilled as she thought about Draco. _Draco…_

He hadn't been so bad lately. Okay fine, when you looked past the snarkiness, the temper, and the overwhelming arrogance of the prat, he could be alright. Well, perhaps 'alright' was a euphemism.

Hermione sighed heavily. She was a Gryffindor, damn it, she could face the truth.

He was wonderful.

She cringed inwardly, and her eyes darted around, searching instinctively for intruders who could pluck the horrid thoughts from her brain.

Draco was witty, observant, fun, and sexy as hell. But if she ever softened towards him, he was sure to break her heart. He'd woo her, seduce her, and they would probably have a grand time, but ultimately he would leave her.

She was still a Mudblood, after all.

He may desire her, but had he ever actually seen her? Ever really long for her company, her conversation? Would he care enough to love her despite her many flaws and really try to make a go of a relationship?

Hermione certainly didn't think so. Although a fling would be nice, (Really nice. She hadn't had sex since… well. That wasn't something she liked to think about.) she was really a relationship sort of girl.

Maybe if…

_Crack!_

Hermione spun, lightening fast, wand thrust forward, prepared to attack.

Dreamy grey eyes stared at her, mocking her silent thoughts.

Hermione sighed wearily and lowered her wand. "Why do I keep running into you?"

Draco grinned, rather smarmily, in Hermione's opinion. "Must be your lucky day."

Hermione rolled her eyes and giggled despite herself.

"What are you doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be saving the world, as usual?"

Hermione arched an elegant brow. "A student fell in love with the Whomping Willow. His friends took him into the infirmary, but in case he escapes I am erecting some precautionary wards. What about you?"

"Just wanted some air. It was getting a tad stifling in the Lounge with all of the unresolved sexual tension between the Weasel and the Bunny." He grinned cheekily, showing off an impressive set of teeth. (Hermione was a sucker for beautiful teeth.)

As they spoke, they walked quietly on the winding path Draco's long stride instinctively slowing to match her smaller one. He grandly gestured to the forest. "Maybe they should mate and populate the forbidden forest with a new kind of rodentia."

Hermione giggled, "You're horrible! But sorry to spoil your fun, weasels aren't rodents, they are of the family _Mustelidae_."

Draco glanced at her from the corner of his eye and smiled fondly, but otherwise ignored her statement. He tapped his index finger against his chin thoughtfully. "What shall we call this new species, Granger?"

She clapped one gloved hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her mirth. Snickering loudly, she played along. "Nevalds?"

Draco, gravely serious, said, "Not quite. It doesn't have the ring of true imbecility that this new breed will capture and distill."

Hermione hooted.

Draco stopped suddenly, causing Hermione to trip over his Hessian-clad leg. Catching her with lightening-fast reflexes, his dove-grey eyes softened as he gently righted her. Tucking a springy curl behind her ear, he smiled warmly. "I have it, Granger. We shall call them Wheeze-Bottoms. That sounds both sickly and stupid."

Hermione closed her eyes and groaned. "Ron will be absolutely wretched to live with when he finally snaps out of this crazy haze."

Draco sighed in contentment as he took one of her hands in his. "But the blackmail will be so very, very rewarding."

Hermione suddenly realized their incredibly intimate position. They were standing in a cozily secluded area of the path, their position hidden by a cove of huge holly bushes. She was standing so close to his body that she could feel his heat radiating through his elegant robes, intoxicating her.

Riotous colored leaves swirled around them as the wind whipped the surrounding trees into a frenzy.

Hermione lifted half-lidded eyes to his face, meaning to tell him that she must get going, but was struck dumb by the sheer heat of his gaze.

Hesitantly, afraid of startling her, he cupped her face and slowly, inevitably, lowered his mouth to hers.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both gentle and shocking, the light touch sending a jolt of agonizing pleasure through Hermione's body. His lips tenderly, tentatively searched the shape of her soft mouth, exploring her luxuriously, carefully, thoroughly.

Hermione, frustrated with his gentle kisses, flicked her tongue against his lips. He moaned softly, but otherwise resumed his maddening ministrations to her mouth. Lightly, she bit his bottom lip, looking into his hot eyes mischievously.

Soon a ferocious battle of lips, teeth and tongue was engaged, fueled by years of pent up passion.

Draco's mind went absolutely blank as he absorbed the reality of his situation. He was kissing Hermione Granger. Kissing her!

_Not too hasty, Malfoy,_ An innately Slytherin part of him hissed. (It sounded strangely like his mother. Rather Oedipal, that.)_ Lure her in first._

He ignored it and contemplated the convenient bed of leaves next to them. He could get their clothes off and use their cloaks to keep the chill away…

Hisinner Slytherin screamed at him. _Seduce her; don't scare her, you fool! _

Reluctantly, he backed off. "You could give me a chance," he whispered softly in between kisses as light and as sweet as spun sugar. "I could be very, very nice to you."

Hermione leaned into his body in response, shuddering at the feel of his hard muscles against her softness. But something (Perhaps it was her one remaining brain cell focused on logic and not sex.) in her pleasure-drunk mind reminded her of her earlier thoughts. _He's just going to use you, Hermione. He only wants one thing! And although you will enjoy that one thing immensely, you know how you'll feel afterwards._

"Hermione, we've been dancing around this long enough. Would you..."

"Draco," Hermione interrupted, eyes wild. Words tumbled out of her mouth, almost without her conscious knowledge. "I can't do this right now. Um, I told Luna I'd be back to look at the mysterious Wobbler nest in the Astronomy Tower. Cheers!

Hermione sprinted away as fast as her limited athletic ability would take her.

_He's not serious, _She thought frantically_, He _can't_ be serious!_

Draco kicked the piles of leaves in a childish frenzy, teeth grinding fiercely, strangling a scream of frustration. _Luckiest day of my life, my arse. _

000

**Somewhere in the Vicinity of Many Broom Closets, Hogwarts Corridors:**

"… I don't understand why I couldn't play 'Good Mop, Bad Mop.' Neville and I would make the most beautiful partnership." Ron pouted petulantly, his lower lip sticking out. (It was a strangely fetching look on him.)

"I'm sure you would have made a smashing Mop," Pansy purred soothingly.

The pair was wandering the corridors of the Castle aimlessly, trying to ponder their cryptic assignment. As Ron was addled by his newfound love, and Pansy was simply addled, it was not working as well as projected.

"Not that I know what a Mop does anyway. Hermione has to quit using the wonky Muggle terms. 'Make out the suspects' indeed," Ron pondered this for the upteenth time. "What does that mean exactly? The suspects bit I can figure handily, but what does 'make out' mean anyway?"

"Erhm," A young girl stepping out of the bathroom interrupted their aimless wandering tentatively. "I think I can help you…"

"What are you doing out of your common room, young lady? Twenty points from," Pansy squinted at the child's necktie, "Hufflepuff."

"I understand Professor, but you seemed so confused as to the Muggle terminology, and in light of the situation, I felt I had to help you out."

"On with it then."

"Well," the girl said, flushing, "'Making-out' is common American Muggle slang for, well, snogging."

"Snogging?" Ron said quizzically.

"Snogging?!?" Pansy said brightly.

"Snogging."

"Fan-bloody-tastic!" Pansy squealed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Did you hear that, Weasley? Snogging! We were going about this completely arse-backwards."

"But I don't understand," Ron said, "What does snogging have to do with suspects?"

"Don't know, don't care," Pansy said gaily, "Fifty points to Hufflepuff for that most excellent bit of enlightenment."

The girl waved smartly and said, "Anything to help! I just want to my boyfriend to stop acting like a giraffe!" She then sped down the hall without looking back.

Ron looked at Pansy warily. "You don't actually think that you and I need to, erhm… well…"

"You heard what she said, it's part of our job specifications!" Pansy said, leading Ron by the hand, merrily searching for any convenient dark, secluded nooks. (Private was preferable, but Pansy was too horny to be picky.)

"I don't think that it necessarily means…"

Pansy grinned wickedly as she shoved a sputtering Ron into the handy broom closet nearby.

She was beaming as she slammed the door shut after them.

000

**Potions Classroom, The Dungeons:**

"Right. It seems our agents who were sent to find suspects have been unavoidably detained."

"Oh?" Luna looked up from the potion she was brewing, "Where did Ron and Pansy go?"

Draco smiled wryly, "We have absolutely no idea."

Luna smiled dreamily, but simply said, "I see."

Busily trying _not_ to look at Draco, Hermione harumphed as she carefully added a few lacefly wings to her steaming cauldron. It turned a sickly shade of puce, and Hermione quickly started stirring briskly. As she stirred, she said, "Well, we certainly can't spare the manpower to look for them. Filch and Hagrid are busy with the students, we are brewing potions, Neville is interrogating suspects, and Harry is busy helping Ginny in the Infirmary."

As if on cue, Harry sauntered into the room. "Do you have any new antidotes for Gin? It's a right madhouse up there. Wish I didn't have this horrid case of verbal diarrhea, else I could come up with a better excuse to leave that insane asylum. Coming down here was the most truthful thing I could think of in a pinch."

Draco sniffed haughtily as he viciously chopped his flobberworms into delicate pieces. "Such a lovely example of martial harmony."

Harry shrugged. "You try being married nearly a decade, and see what coping mechanisms you develop."

Luna smiled and said, "I think you do a lovely job, Harry."

"Thank you."

Draco sneered and gagged mockingly. "As this turn of discussion has become oddly like a meeting of the Hufflepuff House Hearts Harry Society, I propose a change in subject. Topic: My luck, and how I am going get lucky in the bedroom." Draco caught Hermione's eyes and smiled slowly, somehow conveying exactly _who_ he was planning on getting lucky with.

Hermione flushed from hairline to neckline. (And probably beyond. Draco enjoyed imagining the beyond.) "You're not going to get _that_ lucky today, let me assure you."

Draco calmly returned to his chopping. "So you say. But matters of my incredible sexual prowess aside, we still have the outstanding problem of having students running amok and no one to blame for it."

Luna stirred her potion and said thoughtfully, "Well, we still haven't questioned Teddy Lupin yet. He's our only real suspect at this point."

Hermione sighed, "True, but the only one without any sort of assignment at this time is Neville. While he could play good cop convincingly enough, he doesn't have enough killer instinct to really get the kind of answers we need."

Draco shrugged, "I can do it. After I add these flobberworms, the potion has to simmer for an hour in any case."

Hermione leapt on the chance to be rid of his distracting presence, at least temporarily. "Marvelous. Would you like to have Harry or Neville go with you?"

"I'm not going to interrogate the suspect with the Scarry-Faced Git. He doesn't have an ounce of delicacy in his entire body. Not to mention that the man blurts out every thought he has ever had. Not too good for subtlety, that."

Hermione pressed her lips together in an effort not to laugh, and a strange snorting sound issued forth instead.

Harry looked at her closely. "Hermione, are you quite alright? You look a bit peaky. You're all flushed and you have the strangest expression on your face. You might want to have that tickle looked at by Gin before it develops into the flu. Remember when you had it a few years ago? You looked an absolute wretch for a month at least."

Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth and rushed from the room.

Harry blinked, "I hope she isn't going to lose her lunch. She may have a fantastic arse, but we need her brain for this one!"

Draco smiled calmly and folded his hands behind his head. "No, I expect she just got my point."

000

**A Dank, Cold, Incredibly Cheerless Room, The Dungeons:**

"You look nervous, Lupin."

Teddy Lupin gritted his teeth, but smiled sweetly at his least favorite professor. "It's Professor Longbottom, sir. It's… disturbing to see him like that."

"That," Draco said wryly, "Is probably the most truthful thing you've said all evening."

Teddy's big blue eyes widened, his face the very picture cherubic innocence, his hair turning a soft, pure shade of sky-blue.

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You're hiding something, brat. I don't like it."

Neville shushed him swiftly, and fixed a wide grin on his face. One brown, floppy ear falling over his eyes, fast tracking his appearance swiftly from cute to adorable. "We believe you Teddy. Now tell me what happened yesterday in the potions closet."

"Well sir, I was organizing the potions for Madame Potter, as Professor Malfoy said. But I grew bored, so I left for a moment when Professor Malfoy was chatting up Professor Parkinson." Teddy stopped and gulped quietly, his hair changing to a dark, mottled green.

"What did you do, Teddy?" Neville gently prompted.

"Yes, Lupin. Whatever did you do?" Draco said coldly.

"Erhm, well, I… uh…"

"Speak up boy!" Draco snapped.

"I… went-to-the-loo-got-sidetracked-and-snogged-Victoire-in-the-girl's-bathroom." Teddy blurted, hair and face morphing to a crimson red.

"That's it?" Draco asked, eyes hard.

"That's it."

Neville's whiskers trembled cutely as he sighed in relief. "Well, Teddy, I can't say I am pleased about that sort of behavior, but I'm afraid your punishment will have to wait until the pandemonium has died down. For now you'll be confined to our common room with the rest of the Gryffindors until something can be worked out."

Draco looked at Neville in disbelief. "You don't actually believe that rubbish, do you?"

"Draco, the boy has taken Veritaserum."

"Yes, but my inner Slytherin is telling me that he's getting away with something." Draco's eyes narrowed. "I don't like it."

Draco sauntered towards the small student slowly; the boy was squirming uneasily in his chair, his hair changing colors with blinding speed. Grey eyes, colder than arctic winter, pierced Teddy's blue ones, positively reeking with malevolence.

"Don't think I'll forget this, boy." Draco sneered, his voice low and harsh, "If you had anything to do with this rubbish, anything at all, I will make sure your time at Hogwarts is so miserable you will wish you had never been born."

At the end of this ominous speech, Neville's luminous brown eyes were huge. "Draco, you… you sounded exactly like S-Snape."

Draco smirked. "I know."

With that, Draco gave Lupin one more suspicious look, sniffed haughtily, and swept out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him.

Neville looked at the door, his little pink nose trembling nervously, as if the ghost of his most dreaded Professor would pop out of it to haunt him for eternity. (Stranger things had happened. This was Hogwarts, after all.)

Gathering his courage, he decided it would be best to join his colleagues and share what he had learned. "Erhm, thank you, Teddy. Hope you have a pleasant day." With that, he left, leaving Teddy all alone in the small, airless room.

Teddy slumped in his seat, his hair turning a pale, pale pink in relief, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

000

**High Tea, Crisis HQ Again, The Dungeons:**

"Is still think he could be hiding something." Draco muttered around a chocolate biscuit. (Elegantly, of course. Anyone who said he looked like one Ronald Weasley whilst snacking would die a swift, painful death.)

"Stop pestering my Godson!" Harry said, grabbing the last piece of chocolate cake whilst glaring at Malfoy fiercely.

"She-Weasel," Draco snapped, "Get your female life-companion and your spawn under control."

"Malfoy," Ginny sighed and sipped her tea patiently as she calmly kept a hyperactive James from going on a destructive rampage. "There are children present."

"As if I care."

Hermione marched into the room, looking determined and pleased with herself. "Everyone, I've made thorough lists of tasks and schedules for tonight and tomorrow. If we all follow the list of duties outlined, we should be past this crisis by breakfast tomorrow."

She sat herself down on a sofa next to Pansy, who was currently engrossed in an erotic magazine. Hermione looked at it and blushed beet red. Sniffing disdainfully, she asked, "How about I pour? Harry do you want any tea?"

After she passed out the cups, she took stock of the room. "As everyone is here, I will pass out the schedules, and we can go over them together. Then, as Mr. Filch and Hagrid have the students under control, we can try to narrow down the suspect list."

Pansy leaned forward munching on her digestive biscuit thoughtfully. "Does anyone else think that she's a bit out of control? It's rather sexy."

Draco said, admiringly, "She always has been a bit power-hungry."

"Maybe it's the Felix Felicitas," Neville added helpfully, "It's supposed to make one overconfident and reckless."

"Nah," Ron said dismissively, "That's part of her personality."

"I heard that, Ron!"

"Love you too, Hermione." Ron blew her a mocking kiss, and settled down on the sofa practically plastered himself to Neville. (Who, it must be said, leapt up and hastily made excuses, leaving a pouting Ron behind.)

"I have to say that this whole mess has been positively dreadful," Ginny said angrily, "Don't we have any other suspects besides Teddy?"

Pansy looked up from the copy of _PlayWizard_ magazine she was ogling. "How do we know you didn't plan this whole thing? You administered the potions, after all."

Ginny's eyes widened, and her hands, which were currently trying to untangle James' matted hair, stilled.

"Dear Merlin," She said, aghast, "Why would I ever do that?"

"Well," Pansy drawled, shifting seductively, "You do have an unhealthy tendency to be a busybody. Isn't this the most excellent setup for gossip you've ever seen?"

Ginny righted her son and gave him a few biscuits. Dryly, she said, "Do you really believe I'd give myself _days_ of extra work for a little gossip?"

Pansy shrugged her shoulders languidly. "Not really. You're too Gryffindor for that."

Ginny snorted. "Isn't that the truth. Anyway, if you're going to suspect someone on the staff, suspect Luna. She was in the potions corridor yesterday _and _brought the bin of potions up to the infirmary."

Draco's eyes sharpened as he spotted fresh prey. "Looney, what the hell were you doing in my territory yesterday?"

"Looking for Yellow Livelykins. A second year Hufflepuff spotted one in the dungeons last week. They live in dark, damp places, so I was checking to see if they were in the tapestries."

"Luna…"

"They're quite nasty. You should be glad I checked. An infestation could be horridly exciting."

Luna settled herself in quite comfortably and poured herself another cuppa. "Besides, I believe it is much more likely that Draco is the culprit. After all, he brewed the potions and bottled them. And his affliction is quite benign, even beneficial."

Everyone turned on him suspiciously.

Draco was supremely unruffled by all of the attention. (In fact, he even preened a little bit when Pansy admired the cut of his robes.) "If I had done this, don't you think I would have owned up to it by now? And I certainly wouldn't be helping to correct the problem, now would I?"

Ginny shrugged and said, "That's true."

Everyone else was appeased, and went back to their tea, but Hermione still looked at Draco suspiciously. "Malfoy… is that a lottery ticket? That is completely unethical!"

Draco hid the stub defensively. _Time for defensive maneuvers._ He looked in her shoulder bag and sniffed. "What is that stack of tiny knitted caps for?"

Hermione flushed darkly, "None of your business!"

Draco sipped his tea feeling rather Machiavellian. "Understood."

000

**Late Afternoon, Headmistresses Office, Hogwarts:**

Draco and Hermione were in McGonagall's office, making various Emergency Floo calls to the Ministry and St. Mungo's. The call to St. Mungo's was mercifully swift- they would send needed potions, but, so sorry, they still had no Mediwizards to spare for their situation.

The dreaded call to the Ministry, however, was not so brief. Within a few minutes of the official's condescending, pompous speech about how poorly the staff was handling the situation, Hermione was ready to hex the man until he couldn't see straight. Draco, however, being much more experienced at getting what he wanted from complete idiots, soon had the beastly wizard promising them to send the aid Hogwarts needed.

When they were finished, Hermione quickly stood up and strode to the door. Draco was having none of it. He called after her, and his question froze her in her tracks. "You never did start to trust me, did you?"

Slowly, she turned around, frantically attempting to calm her raging emotions before she spoke. Looking into his fathomless eyes, she said, "Why should I? You were always a horrid, beastly boy to me, and I didn't see that changing."

Draco sighed and sat on a plushy upholstered sofa. He ran his hands through his shock of white-blond hair and looked at her a bit sadly. "But surely we've made some progress beyond that point?"

Hermione took pity on him, and sat beside him. Placing a small hand on his broad back, she noted wryly, "Perhaps. You've been somewhat less horrid the past few years."

"Why, Granger, I didn't know you cared."

"Marginally."

Draco was silent for a moment, and traced the golden paisley pattern with a perfectly manicured finger. When he finally looked up, his grey eyes were very serious. "I never did apologize for my behavior as a boy. I was perfectly wretchedly, miserable. And wrong. You'll never know how sorry I am for the things I said… and did," He frowned miserably. "It's a bit of a miracle you and the others have accepted me as much as you do now."

Draco leaned forward until he was only a few centimeters from her body, and she could practically feel his banked excitement. Her breath caught in her throat. _Merlin, he's handsome._

He continued, earnestly. (It was a strangely arresting expression on his usually closed face.) "I know you Hermione. I know you like to sing in the shower, stop and smell the lilacs by the lake when you think no one is watching, and that your favorite color is periwinkle. I know you like to use lily of the valley shampoo. I know your very favorite spell is _Expecto Patronum_ because you like the wrist movement. I know you are a wonderful, serious, interesting woman that I'd like to get to know even better. But do you know what I like most about you?"

"What?" Hermione breathed, soft pink lips parted in expectation.

"I know…" Draco dragged the pad of his thumb over her lower lip.

Hermione's eyes closed and her breath quickened.

"I know… that you don't wear any knickers under your robes."

Hermione's eyes snapped open.

"Lies!" Hermione shrieked as he ran from the room, smirking like a fiend.

000

**Recipent:** Emm718

**REQUEST**

**Would you prefer an art or fic gift?** A fic.

**Describe your ideal gift in as few words as possible (plus rating):** Comedy, a bit of Drama, perhaps a who-done-it??? Oh yes. A wildly imaginative creation. Purdy please.

**Dealbreakers (absolute no-no's):** No character death. Must be nice to Ron and Pansy. Not too much angst. Oh and please, if in the case that you decide it is imperative that Draco and Hermione bump uglies, I don't want non-con, s&m, etc. Lets keep it respectful.


	3. In Which There Is a Resolution Sort Of

**Title:** Mischief Managed

**Author:** Vashka

**Rating:** PG for some sexual innuendo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money from this story, all Harry Potter copyrights belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, there is a line shamelessly stolen from _The Princess Bride_, copyright William Goldman. Can you find it?

**Warnings**: None

**Author Notes**: The HP Lexicon was invaluable in the plotting and writing of this fic, as it gave me many ideas for the potions used & abused in this story. Cheers to bambu345 for helping me brainstorm, and to Lorett and deemichelle for the fantastic beta work. Is a bit EWE, but you could say it is selectively AU, rather than completely AU. Also, due to time constraints need to be Brit-picked better than it actually is. Ah well. Enjoy!

**Summary:** Crazy things happen sometimes. Like utter Bedlam. Like learning how to fly a broom without dying. Like sudden verbal diarrhea. Like taking a chance. Like love.

**000**

**Chapter Three: In Which There Is a Resolution (Sort Of)**

**000**

**Late Afternoon, Potions Classroom:**

Draco and Hermione stood at their respective tables, quite alone in Draco's classroom, studiously brewing their potions. They were also studiously studying each other. Surreptitiously, of course.

Draco had taken off his cloak and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Hermione stared greedily at the long, lean muscles working in his forearms and at the smooth, practiced motions of his elegant hands as he chopped expertly.

_I wonder what those hands would feel like on my body. _Hermione shivered reflexively at the thought, and tore her eyes away, but not before she caught Draco's smoldering gaze on her exposed cleavage. _Bad Hermione!_

After a long, excruciatingly arousing session of eye-footsie, Hermione had had enough.

"This is ridiculous. Are we simply going to go on like this?" Hermione looked at him, dark eyes blazing and arms akimbo, "We're both adults. We kissed, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. We can move on with our lives and work together as associates."

Draco carefully put down his ingredients and strolled over to Hermione's worktable. Gently he took her wand and the vial of King Beetles from her unresisting hands. Soothingly, he placed one warm hand on her cold cheek.

"Associates, Hermione?" he asked, voice deep.

Hermione swallowed, and unsuccessfully fought the urge to snuggle her cheek into his large palm. "Acquaintances?" she rasped desperately.

"Hmmm," his voice resonated in his chest and Hermione wanted to lean into him so she could feel the vibrations. "What about friends?"

"Friends," Hermione breathed. She swallowed convulsively and vulnerable eyes looked straight through his to his heart. "I could learn to like that."

"Hermione," Draco whispered, voice hoarse, "I've wanted to ask you… that is… for a long time now I've…"

"Has anyone seen the box of Wonky Potions? It's been taken from the Infirmary!"

Draco groaned loudly and his forehead dropped lightly to rest on Hermione's for a brief moment, while he subdued the innate urge to commit homicide. (Thou shalt not maim with witnesses. _Slytherin Handbook, Rule No. 16_)

"Did I interrupt an intimate moment? Do go on, I won't be a bother."

"You're a perv, Parkinson!"

"I can't help it! This stupid potion makes me horny all of the time! Come to think of it, it reminds me of being a teenager, all of those stolen moments in broom closets. You should take it for the nostalgia factor alone. Ron is a surprisingly good kisser, once you get past the ick factor of him mentioning Neville in more, erhm, passionate moments." Pansy signed wistfully, and fanned her flushed cheeks.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Nasty!"

Draco held his hands over his ears. "I didn't need to hear that. La, la, la, I _so_ didn't hear that."

Pansy sent him a scathing look. "You needn't be so immature about such things. It is very regressive of you."

"It's not regressive to think that you, Weasel, and Bunny-Boy together is a bloody nightmare."

Hermione shuddered and leaned forward, grappling for a clean, sharp knife that was at the other end of the table, desperately trying to concentrate on the potion she was brewing and not lurid images of various Slytherins and Gryffindors.

"Nice arse, Granger. Have you been working out?"

"Pansy!"

"Can't a girl be experimental?"

000

**Late Afternoon, Crisis HQ:**

"Order! Order!" Hermione yelled without much success, trying to obtain some form of organization from the grumpy and generally dispirited staff. "Did everyone complete the tasks on their lists?"

"Bugger the list," Harry mumbled. "That thing was two bloody feet long."

Hermione glowered at him. "But did you complete it? I was sure that you actually wanted to sleep tonight. Might I be mistaken?"

Harry was mutinously silent. And given his condition, that was saying a lot.

"Hermione, I'm_hungry_." Ron whined pitifully, eyes large and pleading. "Can we please stop these endless meetings and get some food? We're never going to find the bloke who did this, or that damn box. Might as well give it up."

"Is she your mother now?" Draco sneered disdainfully.

Ron (Who was in a very snappish mood due to forced starvation. He had not eaten in _two hours_. Hours!) shot him a glare, "As if you're doing any better at your tasks, Malfoy. The potions aren't finished, and the crafty, inanimate box still escapes you."

Draco, looking very Nordic and threatening, snarled, "At least I'm not lusting after a rodent!"

"Leave Neville out of this!" Ron said defensively, "It's the luckiest day of your life; you're supposed to be able to do anything. Can't you find one measly box?"

Draco stopped, mid rant, and stared at Ron for a moment. "Say that again."

"Uh, you're so useless you can't find a box?"

"Before that."

"You're unnaturally lucky?"

"After that!"

"You should be able to do anything?"

"That's it," Draco spun away from a very befuddled Ron and walked to the other end of the table and sat in the chair next to Harry.

With a slightly crazed gleam in his eyes, he met Harry's startled green gaze. "Potter… meet me on the Quidditch pitch for a quick round?"

The general surprise at this comment was quite impressive. (Even Luna looked slightly caught off guard. That hadn't happened in approximately three years, when someone commented on how fashionable her earrings were.)

Harry blinked slowly. "Come again?"

"I'm challenging you to a Quidditch match. Are you game?"

Ron shut his jaw, which had been hanging agape, with a loud snap. "Have you gone absolutely, stark-raving mad?"

"Malfoy," Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily, "don't you think we have more important priorities right now?"

Malfoy waved his hand dismissively, without really looking at her. "Nothing is more important than this."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, eyes aflame. "Nothing?" She said this in a deliberately low, husky voice.

Draco stopped his staring contest with Potter to glance at Hermione and did a quick double take. She was fingering the buttons of her shirt lazily. And was that… an invitation in her eyes? _Merlin. My luck has the worst sense of timing imaginable. _

Harry sighed, tearing Draco's thoughts and eyes away from Hermione and forcing down the sudden, incredibly strong desire to jump up and toss Hermione over his shoulder and whisk her away to the Room of Requirements and lock them in for at least a week with nothing but a huge bed and a bathtub full of chocolate pudding.

"Malfoy, as much as I would like to kick your arse around the pitch, I don't think that now is the time." Harry said dutifully.

"Afraid I'll beat you?"

"Malfoy, you have never beaten me," Harry scoffed, "I could out-fly you even if it is your lucky day."

"Prove it."

"I have. Many, many times."

Draco raised one, perfectly supercilious eyebrow. Leaning back in his chair, he raised his arms over his head he drawled casually, "Potter, I think that you're covering for something. I think that you just can't perform anymore."

"Come again?"

"Can't perform. Is impotent. Shooting blanks. His wanker is palsied. Is completely worthless as a Man."

Harry leapt from his chair, knocking it backwards violently. Glaring at Draco, he slapped his hands on the table with a loud _BAM_ in front of the sneering blond.

"We're on, Malfoy."

Hermione watched this unfold in dismay. "Harry, be serious. It's not worth it!"

"Oh, _it's worth it_ Hermione. He insulted my honor, my ability, and, most importantly, my virility. No one says I can't perform and lives."

Draco smirked gleefully.

000

**Twilight, The Quidditch Pitch:**

It was mayhem.

There were students running, walking, flying, and in one special case bouncing, everywhere. (Hagrid accidentally told a curious Gryffindor about the match, and it went steadily downhill from there.) The stands were packed, cheering wildly at the unprecedented pleasure of seeing their teachers beat the ever-loving shit out of each other.

Hermione scowled darkly. She felt like the only sober person among a bunch of football hooligans whose team had won in a miraculous turn-around match, and they were all having a pint in a china shop. And she had just been given the oh-so-envious task of making sure they didn't break anything.

The idea, in theory, was simple. Harry, Luna and Ron were on one team, and Draco, Pansy and Neville made up the other.

However, in actual practice, the match was an absolute disaster. Whilst Draco and Harry were racing for the Snitch, Ron certainly wasn't trying to tend goal, or bat away Bludgers, but was instead chasing Neville. Neville, in return, was avoiding Ron with all of his limited skill resulting in him getting in the way of the other players. Pansy was chasing Draco, Harry, Ron, or whoever caught her fancy at the moment. Luna, unconcerned as always, was flying in large loops, certainly not doing anything productive with the Quaffle she held.

In short, it was possibly the most disorganized, delirious, and dangerous Quidditch match ever held in the history of the sport.

Hermione watched, heart in her throat, as Harry and Draco performed insane maneuvers in an effort to out-do each other, and still catch the Snitch. She bit her lip viciously as a rogue Bludger careened in front of Harry, and he pulled up short, almost knocking Draco off of his broom.

_Merlin, please let them get through this alive! _

Hermione heard Draco's hoarse, delighted laughter, and her face twisted sourly. _On the other hand, perhaps I should let them all die._

Bludgers were whizzing everywhere, and no one could really figure out who was winning, even Teddy Lupin, who was serving as the makeshift announcer.

It was the most bizarre and terrifying Quidditch match Hermione had ever seen.

Hermione switched from her lips to now viciously biting her fingernails as she frantically sifted the probabilities for death or dismemberment through her mind. For the fifth time since they started this senseless match, she put a Sonorous charm on her voice and told them to cease this nonsense, and for the fifth time, the players ignored her.

Ginny, who had been in the Infirmary, darted toward the pitch, crimson hair whipping into a frenzy around her.

"Ginny!" Hermione ran to her, pointing to the chaos in the sky. "I don't know what to do. They're not listening to me, and it's only a matter of time before someone gets hurt!"

Ginny's face hardened as she took in the scene, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in true Molly Weasley fashion.

"Nothing for it then," Ginny harrumphed, "Acting like a bloody bunch of children, they are."

Ginny proficiently_Accioed_ two brooms and shoved one at Hermione, while kicking herself off the ground expertly.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she promptly dropped _the thing_ as if it was hotter than Draco's arse in leather Quidditch trousers. She paused… she might not have dropped it if it was _that_ hot… She shook her head distractedly. _This is not the time Granger…_

"Come on, Hermione, we have to stop them from killing themselves!"

Hermione watched her fly away, and then stared at _the thing_ in horror. A few more looks at _the thing_, and then at Ginny's rapidly shrinking form confirmed that:

This was not some nightmarish fantasy her subconscious cooked up.

She really was next to one of those… _things._

Ginny was really expecting her to get on _it_ and spring into the melee hundreds of feet in the air… And finally that-

She was going to die.

Paling visibly and closing her eyes tightly, Hermione tentatively mounted. Instantly, as if sensing her inexperience, the broom started to spin around in uncontrolled circles.

Hyperventilating, she gathered her courage and opened her eyes.

She was three feet off the ground.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione stilled her trembling hands and got her broom under control with a tremendous act of will. She looked up and saw Ginny was having no luck in stopping this foolhardy exercise whatsoever. Draco and Harry, it appeared, were still hell-bent on winning this stupid contest or killing each other. (Which, at the moment, seemed synonymous.)

"I can do this." Hermione took a deep breath, and started to climb higher in the air, making sure she didn't look down. "I am invincible today." She shook her head and began muttering darkly to herself, "So I haven't ridden a broom since first year." She pursed her lips and continued climbing, gaining more height and speed as she went and tried desperately to ignore the very noticeable hysterical note in her voice. " It's no big deal. Absolutely not… Just like riding a bicycle."

_Except that riding a bicycle won't lead to FALLING TO MY DEATH!_

Hermione groaned quietly and began chanting softly under her breath, as if warding off something infinitely evil, "Today is the luckiest day of my life. Today is the _luckiest_ day of my life…"

She gained elevation, until she was hundreds of feet off the ground, and in the thick of the match. Slightly nauseous, she stared straight ahead and tried to forget that a tiny charmed piece of wood was the only thing between her and certain doom. Hermione squared her shoulders and turned to steer her way towards the only sane person in the air.

Ginny had grabbed a beater's bat from the ineffective Ron, and was grimly smashing the Bludgers away from the oblivious players.

Hermione flew level with her for a moment and yelled, "GINNY, WHAT SHOULD I DO?"

Ginny gritted her teeth and slammed an offending Bludger towards the Forbidden Forest, saving Pansy from being whacked in the head. "I'LL WORK ON MY IDIOT HUSBAND. YOU WORK ON MALFOY!" She yelled back.

Hermione saluted smartly, and flew precariously over to the other end of the pitch where Draco was currently darting around. Miraculously, she was able to catch him at a relatively still moment, and caught his attention with her frantic arm gestures.

Draco grinned at her manically as he scanned the sky for glints of gold. "ISN'T THIS GREAT?"

Hermione thought her expression said it all, but apparently Draco thought she approved of this madness because he sent her a mega-watt smile.

"WE NEED TO GET DOWN BEFORE ANYONE GETS HURT!" Hermione shouted.

Draco kept scanning the sky.

_Stupid man. Ignore me indeed! _Hermione thought irritably, and slowly shifted her broom so she was directly in front of his, blocking his view of the pitch. "GET DOWN, YOU CONCEITED BAST…"

"… WILL YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME?" Draco interrupted, eyes shining.

Hermione stopped her broom with a wide swooping motion and looked at him in disbelief, her hair whipping into her face. "ARE YOU INSANE!?!"

"IS THAT A 'NO'?"

"I DON'T THINK THIS IS QUITE THE APPROPRIATE VENUE FOR THIS CONVERSATION!"

Draco opened his mouth to shout a reply that yes; this was an appropriate venue (Really, who didn't love the Quidditch pitch?) when he caught a glint of gold out of the corner of his eye.

In a flash, he was after it.

Hermione decided that the curse words she in her vocabulary were too tame to be used to describe her frustration.

Draco focused in on his target, that gleaming glint of gold that teased him, barely aware of Potter on his left or of the ground rushing towards him. Gripping his broom tightly with his left hand, he milked out any last ounces of speed.

He stretched his hand and begged the Powers that Be. _Please oh please…. A few more inches… Let me beat Potter, just this once…_

_CRASH!_

Hermione landed (Not very gracefully, but in one piece, thank Merlin) and rushed up to the pile of brooms, men and dirt, trying to see if there was anything left of the two idiots. Draco sat up, uninjured, having miraculously landed on Harry instead of his face. (Harry was Not Pleased to say the least, but was Not Dead, which Pleased his wife.)

Neville crashed to the ground, long, floppy ears obscuring his eyes. Shaking himself off briskly, he ran to the accident. "Is everyone alright?" Seeing that everyone was relatively uninjured, he sighed in relief.

Ron landed just behind Neville and rushed to the scene, but completely ignored the two groaning men on the ground. Instead he flung his arms tightly around a shocked Neville and cried, "Nev, are you alright? I saw that crash and I was so _worried_!"

"Is that your hand on my arse?" Neville asked, whiskers trembling furiously.

"Do you like it?"

Neville broke out of the embrace, and shouted, livid, "No!"

Ron crossed his arms peevishly. "Why are you letting societal conventions stand in the way of our love?"

"I've put up with this long enough," Neville said furiously, "Get away from me, Ron! I. Do. _Not_. Love. You."

Ron's big blue eyes started to look a tad misty, (He wasn't crying, mind you. Real Men don't cry.) and Neville rolled his eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake. You'll be absolutely mortified when you're back to normal, you know."

Luna and Ginny landed nearby without ceremony took one look at the situation between Ron and Neville and decided, silently and unanimously, that they Didn't Want To Know.

Luna sighed, looking nothing so much like an escapee from Bedlam with her clothing askew and wild hair. "I'm so happy for Draco!"

Harry frowned sourly, Draco's foot still obscuring his eyes. "You were on _my_ team Luna."

Luna shrugged.

In the meantime, Draco looked at the Snitch in his hand in awe, and then looked at the disgruntled Boy-Who-Wasn't-So-Hot-Now who was lying beneath him and a broad, cocky grin spread across his face. Potter promptly shoved Malfoy off of him and rolled to get up.

Draco completely ignored him. His eyes were glued to his prize… and then it hit him.

Snitch.

Pissed-off Scarhead.

Snitch.

_Really_ pissed-off Scarhead.

"I … won."

Draco's face went absolutely luminous at the realization.

He started laughing hysterically, pointing at Harry and ribbing for all he was worth. "The glorious Potter's reign has ended! Long live _King Malfoy_!"

"You cheated." Harry mumbled.

"Cheating is a perfectly acceptable way to win," Pansy said, sidling up to Harry. (Surreptitiously trying to figure out how to feel up that leather encased arse without getting hexed by Mrs. Boy-Who-Lived.) "In fact, it's incredibly sexy."

Harry blinked.

"Slytherins are just so… weird."

"I won!"

"Yes, Draco, you won," Hermione said patiently, as if to a small child. "Can we go to the castle now? It's rather cold outside and we have quite a mess to clean up still."

Draco scooped a startled Hermione up, and twirled her in time to his victory dance. Dizzy and elated, Draco slowed letting her small, curvy body slide down his larger, harder one. Her eyes, so stern when he'd first picked her up, had melted into pools of dark chocolate. Her face was flushed from the wind and arousal, and her hair was a wild tangle of curls around her face and back. The mere sight of her tumbled disarray and smoldering look made Draco's heart start to beat wildly.

It was the most natural thing in the world to kiss her.

Their lips met hungrily, desperately and instantly they were completely lost to the crowd around them. Draco snatched her up immediately, pulling her close to him and wrapping his arms possessively around her. Hermione responded likewise, twining the fingers of one hand tightly into his sweaty Quidditch robes to keep him against her and the other finding its way to Draco's hair, getting lost in its thickness and tugging his head this way and that, until she found the perfect angle in which to dart her tongue more fully into his mouth. They both groaned, their bodies straining to get closer as their tongues danced, traced and swirled together, totally, utterly entranced with each other.

It was a kiss born of spontaneity, of passion, of mutual regard… and perhaps something more.

Feeling the need to breathe, Hermione and Draco pulled apart slowly, stealing small, languid kisses, not being able to break away from each other, smiling giddily. "And now for the spoils of my triumph," Draco whispered on Hermione's lips as he leaned in for another kiss, eyes shining.

Neville coughed politely.

(Ron worriedly asked him if he was feeling ill, and if he needed to go to the Infirmary? Or if he needed some soup, or perhaps a potion? Neville cringed and tried to sidle away from his clingy shadow. Ron followed.)

Harry was tapping his forefinger on his lips thoughtfully. "Does anyone remember who took bets for kissing on the Quidditch Pitch?"

Luna sighed, "Isn't it wonderful? Crookshanks and I always knew they were meant to be together."

Draco grinned, and tightened his hold on Hermione. "It seems we have an audience."

Hermione peered over his shoulder and flushed crimson. Hundreds of curious eyes looked back. "A very large one."

"Let's take this elsewhere, shall we?"

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Let's."

Ron's Love Potion chose that moment to wear off. He blinked rapidly, and assessed his current position wrapped around one Neville Longbottom, who, to Ron's horror, currently looked like a very large variety of English Lop. "What am I _doing_?"

He looked at Neville, and then at Draco's smirking face. Memories assailed him.

His agonized scream echoed across the pitch.

000

**Around Midnight, In The Unendurable Agony of Humiliation (Which was Somewhere in the Hufflepuff Wing, Obviously.)**

"I can never show my face in public again."

"Oh, well. It's not so bad. You'll just have to marry Neville and make an honest bunny out of him."

"That was uncalled for."

"True. But it was funny. This will give me fodder for _years_."

Ron groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands wearily. "I think I want to die. That's it. I'll go drown myself in the lake, and the squid will drag my unfortunate carcass to the depths, never to be seen again. Then you'll be sorry for teasing me."

"Oh, poor, poor Weasel. I feel absolutely wretched. Your life has been tainted, nay ruined, by this dreadful, horrid, despicable day."

"Parkinson, you don't understand. I was crushing on a bloke. All day. In _public_. My life is over. And when my brothers catch wind of this, I will never, ever know peace again."

"At least you didn't hit on everything with legs!"

"I was infatuated with _Neville_… when he was furry."

"True. But at least he was a bit attractive then. Those fuzzy ears were so cute!" Pansy looked at him slyly. "You said so yourself."

Ron turned a lovely shade of green.

Pansy scooted a bit closer to Ron, until she felt the heat coming off from his tall, lanky body. "You know, I may have a way to make this all blow over."

"How?" Ron said eagerly. "You can fix this? That would take a bloody miracle!"

"Welllll," Pansy drawled, while she toyed with a lock of her silky dark hair. "I don't know. I mean, your torment really means a lot to me…"

"Parkinson, if you have an idea, any idea, to get me out of this mess, I will be your slave for eternity."

Pansy looked sideways at his earnest blue eyes, and had to hide her smile. _All too easy. Gryffindors are bloody fantastic! Why didn't I see the possibilities earlier?_

"You see, my dear Ronald," She purred, her voice low and breathy, as her mouth crept closer to his, "We just need to create a scandal bigger than the one you inadvertently created by declaring your fondness for rodent amour."

Ron's eyes widened.

"That's bloody brilliant!" His brows suddenly drew down with confusion. "But how…?"

Pansy sighed dramatically, and one perfectly manicured hand crept up to tangle in his soft red hair. "What do you think of shotgun weddings?"

000

**Sleepytime Time, The Infirmary:**

At approximately the same time (That crazy-time before the ass-crack of dawn), the adult Potters were working on the last potion victim. (A poor Firsty who had ingested a strong dose of the Befuddlement Draught. Hopefully, the little one would stop thinking he was Dumbledore soon.) Most everyone had recovered, or was on their way to recovery, thank Merlin. McGonagall had finally woken up, had taken charge, and everything felt stable for the first time since breakfast.

"There." Ginny wearily lifted the covers over the unconscious student. "That should do it."

"Let's go to our quarters and…" Harry waggled his eyebrows. "… Relax a little."

"Harry," Ginny sighed, "how can you even think of that now? I'm just exhausted."

"But…"

Ginny interrupted him, sternly. "Darling, our jobs take up so much of our time and energy. And today was almost a _normal_ day! And with James, well, I think we're going to have to cut down a little on the… relaxation… for awhile."

Harry's eyes widened in alarm.

"Maybe I will take that Ministry job after all."

000

**That Hazy Period In Which No Sane Person Is Awake, Hermione's Office:**

Hermione and Draco sat in her office seated on a plush sofa in front of her fireplace, sharing a pot of tea and a midnight snack in uncomfortable silence. They both were bursting with things to say, but were hesitant to bare their souls. (One day, albeit fabulous, does not instant trust make.)

Hermione poured herself another cup of steaming white jasmine and gathered her courage. "Would you like a chocolate biscuit?" _Wimp, _her inner Gryffindor snarled. (It sounded scarily like McGonagall.)

"Yes, thank you." Draco replied politely, his inner Slytherin frantically spinning his mental wheels. _Ah, well. Screw subtlety. _Inner Slytherin cringing, he turned to Hermione and said, "We need to talk."

Hermione swallowed nervously. "I suppose we do."

Draco's fingers were tapping anxiously on his teacup, so he put it down. He scooted forward until their thighs were touching. He took a deep breath, and concentrated intently on the fire. Quietly, he said, "Granger, we've had the most ridiculous day, and while I think you know where I'm going with this, I need to say it anyway. I've been trying to convince you that in my estimation you are bloody amazing. I know you don't trust me completely, but we can work on that, and…"

"… Ask me properly," Hermione interrupted.

Draco's eyes shot up, and fixed on her serious, dark ones. "Really? You'll go out with me?"

Hermione lifted a brow superciliously, and took another sip of tea. "You certainly have an odd idea of properly asking a girl out."

"Right then…" Draco looked nervous, but his eyes locked on hers intently. "Granger, would please grant me the favor of your company for supper Friday evening?"

Hermione paused a moment, enjoying the uncertain expression on his face. (As it was so rare to see him this worked up, she took great pleasure in his nervous breakdown. His ego would be large enough after she gave him her answer.)

Her lips curved softly and she said, simply, "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"_Yes_. Do you want me to take it back?"

Draco leaned forward. "It's not just the Felix potion talking, is it?"

"When did you take it?"

"Around midnight."

Hermione looked at the clock on the wall and grinned. "Well, it's half-past, so your luck has run out."

He too glanced at the clock, his eyes sliding back to Hermione and he arched an elegant brow in challenge. "You think?" he asked in a husky whisper. "Let's see, shall we?" With that, Draco cupped Hermione's face in his hands and his lips swept down and captured hers. With a slight sigh, Hermione closed her eyes and fell into the tingly, heart-stopping, trembling, pretty much perfect, kiss.

"I'd say you're still lucky," Hermione panted, her hands roaming aimlessly on his muscular back. She tangled one hand in his silvery-blond hair and nuzzled his neck happily.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as Draco peppered her face with feather-light kisses. "Draco… Where did that box of potions go?"

"Don't know, certainly don't care."

He then proceeded to make Hermione not care as well.

000

**The Extreme AM (Again), The Lake, Hogwarts Grounds:**

A figure crept towards the Great Lake stealthily, like a jungle cat. Well, maybe it was more like a slightly overweight house cat. Okay, perhaps he wasn't sneaky like a cat at all, but he made his way down to the lake, encumbered by a huge box, without being caught. (This was sheer luck. He probably would have been caught red-handed if Filch was in true form, but luckily for the wrongdoer, Filch was snoozing off his long, hard day. Old age and all that.)

As the figure approached the great lake, he sped up, legs pumping furiously due to the great weight in his arms. Using his momentum, he heaved the large box into the lake and sank down to his knees as he watched it sink slowly into the water.

Teddy Lupin let out a trembling breath as the last bubbles broke the surface, relieved. Grinning, he got up from his crouch and skipped and tripped up the path to the castle with the resiliency of youth.

When he finally slammed the portrait of the Fat Lady behind him, he allowed himself a whoop of delighted laughter. He ran to the fireplace where three elated young faces beamed at him.

Fred Weasley, the leader of this new generation Marauders, shut the Marauder's Map closed with a brisk snap. Slapping Teddy on the back heartily, he motioned for him to join the intimate circle. "Well done, Lupin. You pulled it off! Almost got snagged, but distracting Malfoy with Professor Granger was bloody brilliant! "

Ian Finnagan pumped Teddy's hand fiercely and gave him a wide, gap-toothed smile. "Absolutely! How'd you get the Profs to go bloody bonkers at the end there, mate? That Quidditch match was the most wicked thing I've ever seen!"

Teddy blushed and shrugged modestly. (He really didn't want to admit sheer Dumb Luck had more to do with his success than actual Mischievous Talent.)

Victorie Weasley tossed her long blonde hair and sent Teddy a dazzling smile that left him somewhat dazed. "Marvelous job, Teddy! Did you get rid of the evidence?"

"Of course!"

"Fantastic," Fred said. Uncharacteristically solemn, he turned to Teddy. "Teddy, I want you to know that due to the enormous success of your prank, we've decided to let you into the Marauders. My dad gave me this map and told me that the best time of his life was when he used it with his brother to create the best pranks Hogwarts had ever seen."

Here, he grinned and turned to the other members. "I think we can do better!"

Fred raised his right hand and said, "Teddy, raise your right hand and repeat after us. 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good.'"

Trembling with banked excitement, Teddy's hand shot up in the air. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good!" _I'm a Marauder, _Teddy thought in disbelief,_ Holy Merlin, I'm a Marauder!"_

Grinning, laughing, and shrieking with happiness, the group celebrated until the first rays of dawn were sluggishly poking up form the horizon. Stomach hurting from too many pumpkin pasties, Victorie said her goodnight and dragged herself up the stairs to the girl's dormitory while the boys sluggishly made their way to bed.

"Welcome to the Marauders, kid," Fred said cheerfully as they climbed the stairs. "It's going to be a fantastic year. I already have some wicked ideas for pranks- we'll have loads of fun!"

Later, as Teddy was safely in bed listening to his roommates snore, he thought of the wild stories Harry had always told him of his Dad and his band of friends. He smiled wistfully and felt a welling of deep contentment pooling in the vicinity of his heart.

_Mischief Managed,_Teddy thought happily as he snuggled under the covers, and dreamed of adventure.

000

**Recipent:** Emm718

**REQUEST**

**Would you prefer an art or fic gift?** A fic.

**Describe your ideal gift in as few words as possible (plus rating):** Comedy, a bit of Drama, perhaps a who-done-it??? Oh yes. A wildly imaginative creation. Purdy please.

**Dealbreakers (absolute no-no's):** No character death. Must be nice to Ron and Pansy. Not too much angst. Oh and please, if in the case that you decide it is imperative that Draco and Hermione bump uglies, I don't want non-con, s&m, etc. Lets keep it respectful.


End file.
